Thank u, Next
by CheyBaby
Summary: Rachel talks Santana into writing what is hopefully a Grammy award winning song for her, but only under one condition. Rachel has to release the song no matter what or give up her first born. Rated M for language.


_A/N: This is my take on Ariana's Thank u, Next. I hope you all like it!_

"Come on Santana. I _need_ this." Rachel pleaded, eyes wide.

Santana violently speared a piece of lettuce with her fork and pointed it at the tiny diva, "Listen Hobbit, I have better things to do. I have my own career to worry about. I'm not writing you a song."

"Now that I have almost achieved EGOT status it is time to move work towards the last one. I _need_ a Grammy Santana. It is the next logical step, and would boost my career immensely. If we work together it's inevitable, and a win for me is a win for you! I have prepared a formal proposal that is accompanied by a thorough powerpo- "

"Stop right there Midget." Santana interjected, stopping Rachel from pulling out a binder and her laptop. "I'm not looking at any of that shit, okay? I'll do it on one condition."

Letting the proposal materials slide back into her bag, Rachel leaned forward, practically bursting with triumph. "I'll do anything, just name it."

"You have to record and release the song as is, no matter what."

With her signature 100 watts smile firmly in place Rachel nodded her head, and dug into her food. "We have a deal then."

"Great. I'll have Britts write up a contract."

* * *

Rachel was fuming. Santana could not possibly expect her to sing _that_. "What the hell is this, Santana? You realize that this has impact on both of our careers, yes? There is no way in Broadway hell that I am singing this."

Santana rolled her eyes, but remained calm. She knew there would be some push back. It was honestly kind of a ballsy move, even for her, but someone had to do it. "Okay, a couple of things. First, yes you are. We have a legally binding contract. Second, this shit is in. Third, just sing the fucking song Rachel."

"No! Absolutely not, Santana Lopez. This is ridiculous. I will not be made a mockery by this ridiculousness." Rachel stomped her foot, slipping into her old diva ways.

Santana smirked. She loved getting under the other girl's skin. "You said ridiculous twice."

Rachel huffed and plopped down in the chair in the corner of the studio. "I'm not singing that Santana."

"You have to. Tell her Britt."

"She's right, Rach. Unless you're willing to give up your first born." Brittany shrugged. "It's up to you. A tiny Rach would be so cute, right San?"

"Eh."

* * *

 _Thought I'd end up with Brody_

 _But he wasn't a match_

 _Wrote some songs about Jesse_

 _Now I listen and laugh_

 _Even almost got married_

 _And for Finn, I'm so thankful_

 _Wish I could say, "Thank you" to Noah_

' _Cause he was an angel_

 _One taught me love_

 _One taught me patience_

 _And one taught me pain_

 _Now, I'm so amazing_

 _I've loved and I've lost_

 _But that's not what I see_

 _So, look what I got_

 _Look what you taught me_

 _And for that, I say_

 _Thank you, next (next)_

 _Thank you, next (next)_

 _Thank you, next_

 _I'm so fuckin' grateful for my ex_

 _Thank you, next (next)_

 _Thank you, next (next)_

 _Thank you, next_

 _I'm so fuckin'_

 _Spend more time with my friends_

 _I ain't worried 'bout nothin'_

 _Plus, I met someone else_

 _We havin' better discussions_

 _I know they say I move on too fast_

 _But this one gon' last_

' _Cause her name is Quinn_

"What the fuck is this shit!?"

Santana threw her hands up, slamming them down on the arms of her chair. "What the hell, Quinn? That was a perfectly good recording!"

"What the hell is going on here Santana. This isn't funny." Quinn was fuming. She didn't have time to waste on Santana's dumb jokes. She had a business to run and a career to cultivate.

Santana sighed. "Well, Quinn. As per our contracts, Rachel is singing the song that I wrote for her and you're producing it. Does that little breakdown help, or are you still confused."

"That's not what I mean and you know it Santana. What the hell are these lyrics? I don't have time for your little jokes. Grow up." Quinn bit out through a clenched jaw.

Smirking, Santana crossed her legs. She held all of the power, a fact that she was very much aware of. "If you don't want to produce it, that's fine, but you know the conditions. We can take this to another producer, but you lose the royalties, acclaim, and your second born, right Britts?"

"Right San! A tiny Rach would be so cute! Oh please, can we have one?!" Brittany beamed and bounced in her seat, oblivious to the looks Rachel and Quinn were giving her.

"We'll see love."

"What the hell?"

*Brittany never got her tiny Rach, but they were named (fairy) God Mothers.


End file.
